


Perfect Illusion

by angpie0119



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:54:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28859913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angpie0119/pseuds/angpie0119
Summary: Takes place during season 2 when Mr. Robot shows himself in Angela's apartment. At this point, Angela has formed an admiration for MR, projecting her own wishes into reality.
Relationships: Angela Moss & Mr. Robot
Kudos: 1





	Perfect Illusion

She knew the difference. She knew it in his eyes. When they would shift, change, merge – separate – she knew who was who, she could keep track. It felt a little perverse that she could tell the two apart, more so than Elliot could tell that he’d lost the time to his protector’s presence. These days she prayed for those lapses in time and she hated herself for that, hated that she preferred one side over the other. If you’d asked her months ago, she’d have told you that she wanted nothing more than to be loved, to be cared for by her dear friend and former coworker. Then **_he_** took over more frequently, the attitude shifted, and she was face to face with a figure of confidence and cunning. Those were traits that she desired for herself, traits that she found herself drawn to in another person.

Mr. Robot. That’s what Elliot called him, the alter ego that consumed him when the need for such a thing kicked in to affect. When the going got tough, when the fire in the kitchen was blazing, when the pressure was turned up to an eleven. Mr. Robot – his presence was electric, and his drive always seemed to make everyone around him soldier forward with triumph and desire. Desire. That’s what Angela felt now – **_desire_**. At first it was a desire to be needed by them all, then it turned into a desire for her to be needed by _him_ , to be considered important to a man like that. This all morphed into a desire for his power. Powerful. That’s what this presence was, he was a live wire and yet held all the cards in every situation – the smartest person in the room. She fed off of his energy, she was heavily under the influence, she was drunk on all that his plans could offer to her, to society, to the world.

When Elliot kissed her on the train, she knew (or at least she thought) immediately that he was pulled under, never had he been that gutsy before, that full of courage or fire. Mr. Robot. He was the one that stoked the flame, that gave this quiet soul that ‘gentle push’ that was necessary. When their mouths parted, those ocean orbs of hers buried deep within his own spheres – and she saw nothing. The disappointment crashed deep within her guts, and she felt a single solitary tear fall down her rosy cheek. This was not at all what she’d expected, and though it was something she’d always desired in the past, she was now struck with disdain. **_He’d_** been beside her too, in her thoughts for so long, and yet he left her to hang on that subway. Sure, she reminded herself, they were the same person, she needed to get a grip and remember. And maybe this was a possibility at first, she was fully able to comprehend that there was only one Elliot, and that he was fabricating this alter, this person to get him by in the tough times. Then it all changed, she felt as if she could finally see with fresh eyes two halves split and even though they held pieces of each other, each one was inherently different. Why was she the only one that could see now? Why was she the only one that believed? Elliot believed for so long that Mr. Robot was outside himself, and yet now he woke up, leaving her to be the only one. This would have been fine of course, had she been able to see his face in that moment – but he was not there. It truly was Elliot finally finding his strength to step forward – only this time she wasn’t calling out for that attention. Not anymore.

In her apartment it happened again, that raging kiss, that thing that she’d heavily avoided. He made contact as if they belonged together, as if this was his shot to finally move this rollercoaster up the tracks. Elliot, the softness of his lips caressing against her own should have made her melt, but that was another life she felt so distant from – now all she felt was cold. Old Angela, as she referred to her former self, would have invited the intimacy between them, would have reached out to remove his rain-drenched clothing. She would have been so very pleased to see his face, to finally be met with the desire and adoration that she so richly deserved. However, this wasn’t going to happen, and she made sure this fire would be extinguished immediately. They no longer shared the same values, the same desires, or the same motives. Elliot wished to correct the hacking that had led them to this magnificent point in time, and that was not something she wanted – that was not a world she wished to be part of. Whiterose had opened up new doors for her, new possibilities, but this new path to this type of future was not what Elliot aimed to achieve. Cutting the cord to this crush, to this sudden bought of feelings he felt towards her, was the only way to ensure the future that she wanted so badly, the future they had fought for all this time.

‘It was a mistake…’ the words fell from pouted lips effortlessly, and yet she couldn’t look him in the eye.

Her statement had escaped so strong and powerful, her explanation that this thing between them could not be, that this intimacy was a mistake and would never happen again. Even so, she still cared for her childhood friend, she in no way wanted to see him in pain, to see him suffer, especially not by her hands. So, her eyes remained on the floor, head tilted towards the wall, her ears listening to his agreeance, which seemed forced, but she took it all as understanding. Nevertheless, she broke the small moment of silence, heading towards her bedroom for the night, but making sure to ask him to stay. She wanted him there, but only as a gesture of support and protection – not as a lover of any kind.

The wooden floor panels creaked, and she found herself up once again, gliding gently into the living room. The power was still out around the city, so she armed herself with a candle, battling the eerie quiet and darkness. Her heart began to beat a rhythm that was on another wavelength, lips parting to speak, eyes wide with curiosity and intrigue.

‘It’s me,’ the voice filled her ears, and she knew in that moment it was _him_ , it had to be.

Beckoning him forward, she herself began to move, the area with which she walked illuminated with a calling nature. As soon as their eyes met, much closer than before, she knew she’d been right, and she couldn’t help but to crack a smile. Reaching forward, her hand grazed against his cheek, ‘it is you,’ she breathed, catching the man off guard.

‘How can you tell the difference?’ he questioned, and even though she answered that it was all in the eyes, she then could see a flicker of a separation. The blip lasted only but a second, but then he appeared to her as static. Holographic. 3D. Materializing before her eyes, a man – in the flesh. A whole person, instead of a shell. An individual, apart now from his original point of origin. Angela no longer could see Elliot; she could no longer feel his energy; her fingertips caressing against an unshaven cheek. DNA shared and yet not one in the same; he was whole; he was here with her now.

‘It’s happening,’ she could feel the emotion welling up deep within, her faith in Whiterose completely mounting and alive – justified now that he was standing before her – in the flesh. Mr. Robot. He was no longer an illusion or a deeply imbedded memory, he was here in front of her, living and breathing just as she was.

‘What?’ he asked, shaking his head, ‘What’s happening, Angela?’ His voice. Even his voice was his own and not that of his host’s.

‘You’re here…I can see you.’ She smiled again, hand roaming down the length of his arm until she pushed into his large palm.

‘See me?’ he cocked his head to the side, ‘what do you mean?’ Fingers intertwined with his own, ‘I see you. Not Elliot. You’re real. I’ve been waiting for this, and I knew it was possible.’ There was a moment of shock that flooded between them, hers escalating to the point of awe, and yet his seemed floored.

‘That’s not possible,’ he commented, glancing down at their hands, she was so warm, she was so inviting – the conflict raged – this couldn’t be right. Not only was this a complete impossibility, but it seemed as if she had been just as interested in seeing him, as he’d been anticipating seeing her. Of course, he thought it would all be through Elliot’s eyes, through his body, by way of another’s skin.

‘It is,’ she nodded, ‘it’s completely possible, and I’m seeing you now as clearly as you can see me.’ She set the candle she’d been holding onto the end table by the couch, once again coming before him, hands reaching out as if to be held.

‘Angela…what about…what about Elliot?’ The words sounded horse and childish, and yet he was concerned where this was headed, he was worried about the boundaries that had once been in effect no longer existing. Not just the boundaries of scientific possibility and law, but the boundaries of how they were allowed to feel about one another. He was an extension of Elliot, a protector of sorts, a near figment of his imagination. There was no possibility of breathing on his own without his creator’s lungs – no way that he could possibly ever feel the true warmth that Angela possessed.

‘He’s not here now,’ she answered back, ‘you are, and I’ve been waiting for you.’ Dainty hands ran up the length of his torso, resting against his chest, her frame pressing a little tighter to his own.

‘Angela….’ he could barely form the right words to say, the man who always had a comeback was completely tongue-tied.

‘Isn’t this what you wanted?’ she questioned, those blue eyes hurt in some way, a hurt that he did not want to be cause of. ‘We’ve been working together on all this, it’s been us…you’ve been the one here with me…I know this is right…I’m not afraid of this,’ she continued on, his own hands now finding their place at her jutting hips.

‘We want the same things, we always have,’ she noted, ‘you’re real to me…I know what I want, and I think you want it too.’ She wasn’t wrong, and that was the hard part, she was spot on and that’s what turned the moral fiber in his guts. They’d been working together on this project, they had been forging forward, tricking Elliot in order to carry out the plans already set into motion. It was no secret that he wanted to be fully alive, that he wanted to be ‘real.’ Even the thought of saying that out loud sounded pathetic – like Pinocchio wanting nothing more than to be able to exist without the strings – without the master tugging and pulling this way and that way. Although, his host felt as if he’d been the one continuously commandeering his body, it was Elliot that would always be the one waking up in the morning, while he’d be tucked away for safe keeping.

The fact that she could see him, the fact that he wasn’t wearing a suit made of someone else anymore was appalling but also completely freeing. Facing her fully, he could see just how wonderful and remarkable she truly was. A gorgeous, brilliant woman, one that deserved much more than what she had been given thus far in life. She had fight, she had attitude, she had perseverance and vitality. He had been enamored with her, even though he knew the repercussions, even though he knew in a way this had to be wrong. There was no way that he would ever be truly able to walk without the additional attachments of a commander. There was zero chance of a separation – Elliot and himself weren’t Siamese twins, there was no modern medical procedure that could make each man two equal and thriving halves. Yet, looking into Angela’s magnetic eyes, he too wanted to believe in every word that she spoke, to indulge in the idea that they could finally experience the human condition together.

‘I’m practically a ghost…Angela…I’m not…’ he breathed, one of his hands reaching upward to caress her cheek before running through her bright, blonde locks. She closed her eyes, practically humming, leaning into his caresses.

‘You’re not a ghost,’ she quipped, pressing painted fingers up to his full lips, ‘I see you perfectly…and soon…everyone else will too.’

He’d wanted to tell her he wasn’t real, to break this fantasy once and for all, before both of them experienced the hurt of a massive let down. However, the way she moved against his frame, the way he ignited at her touch – how could this not be happening? Fully? Truly? He felt her stretching against him now, her feet onto tiptoes, hands rushing up to grasp his face, pulling him closer, mouth inches apart, breath hot and inviting. It was instinctual and felt more natural than expected, their lips meeting, melding as if they’d been searching for one another for years. Slowly, they carried on like this, bottom and top tiers in a soft motion, opening to allow the passing of torrid, tongues. Slicked together, gathering taste and texture, exploring a place that they thought would never exist in their reality. Large hands braced her, one roamed to her back, fingertips pressed to her spine, the other sliding further downward, grasping her backside. This seemed to ignite her, to illuminate her ultimate desires, mouth becoming reckless and needy against his own. The kiss deepened, eliciting a moan from within the blonde – a sound that sent a shiver down his own vertebrae. She made him feel whole – she was convincing him with each passing second that this was all a possibility – that maybe, just maybe he’d be able to walk freely, to engage with Elliot and others like friends, face to face, and that Angela and himself could be like this, not as an illusion but as a reality.


End file.
